


Pumpkin Spice

by jive



Series: Kinktober 2016 Library [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Halloween Costumes, Inappropriate Use of Pumpkins, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 03:10:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8429209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jive/pseuds/jive
Summary: Jack and Gabriel have a little after-party to themselves once the Halloween festivities come to a close for the night.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Kinktober Day 31: Costumes**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> For my dearest [EdgeLaur](http://edgelaur.tumblr.com) and [Schmogg](http://schmogg.tumblr.com). 
> 
> This is for bestowing the Reaper76 community with the wonderful gift of [pumpkin fucking](http://edgelaur.tumblr.com/post/151911117732/the-commanders-havin-some-fun-after-the-halloween).

They're not drunk, per se. No, they're  definitely not drunk.

Well, not drunk on the alcohol, anyway.

They’re drunk on the giddy atmosphere, moods much more light-headed and carefree than they have ever been in a while. They’re _buzzed_ from the heavy-hitting punch that Reinhardt had made specifically for the party — strong enough to knock Jesse out cold after three glasses, strong enough to make Torbjörn tipsy after five, and strong enough to leave even Reinhardt with pinkened cheeks after six — and in the way only SEP soldiers can get. That is to say, barely at all and not for very long.

They slip out of the party before the night officially ends, Gabriel making up an excuse about something or another that nearly everyone drunkenly buys. Everyone but Ana that is, who never partakes in alcohol and shoots them both a knowing, withering glare after seeing the way Gabriel's hand rests at the small of Jack's back as he ushers the other soldier towards the exit.

“For goodness’ sake, at least come back later to help clean up,” she calls out before the door closes behind them, rolling her eyes at Gabriel's shameless chuckling.

They find themselves on their way to Gabriel's office, occasionally pausing to duck into an empty room or alcove to grope and rut against each other when the temptation gets to be just a little too much.

“I really wish you'd take that ridiculous head off,” Jack murmurs into Gabriel's shoulder when they've stopped for the fifth time during their walk with Jack pinned with his back against the door to Gabriel's office. His hands tighten on  metal spaulders, and his pearly teeth dig into the inky black fabric of the duster when Gabriel’s hands somehow manage to slip beneath his white cape and grope lewdly at his backside. He tries to bury his flushed face into the space where the carved pumpkin — “ _Why the heck would you use a_ real _pumpkin, you weirdo_ ?” “ _For authenticity._ ” — meets Gabriel's collarbone, keening from the back of his throat when Gabriel's thigh between his own rocks upwards at just the right angle to jostle his trapped cock.

“And ruin the mystique of my costume, Jackie?” Gabriel chuckles, pushing himself flush against Jack’s front. He delights in the frustrated noises escaping from that wonderfully pink mouth, and grinds his own hips against Jack’s. He continues to caress Jack’s ass while the other reaches for the door knob. “C’mon, cariño, let’s get ourselves inside and I’ll show you what else this head is good for.”

They forgo turning on the lights in Gabriel’s office, letting the door click closed behind them as they make their way across the room in the dark. Moonlight streams in from between the blinds at the window, illuminating the darkness just enough for Gabriel to seat himself in his chair and Jack to situate himself in his lap.

“Seriously, Gabe, take that stupid thing off,” Jack groans from above him, rocking down and grinding against the hardness pressing at the front of Gabriel’s pants. His own cock strains at the front of his own costume, insistent and demanding for attention in the way it rubs against Gabriel’s stomach with each upward buck of Jack’s hips. His hands rub at Gabriel’s chest through the many layers of his orange and black costume, desperate for direct contact yet careful enough to not ruin the hard work and effort Gabriel put into making it look flawless.

His hands run up the neatly tailored edges of the black duster, toying briefly with the buckle strapped at the center of Gabriel’s chest, before settling at the base of the carved pumpkin head. Gabriel grasps at Jack’s wrists when his hands attempt to lift the head off of him. Playfully, he tugs Jack’s arms back down to his sides, bumping the side of his head with the pumpkin as if the hollowed mouth were pressing a kiss to his temple.

His hands let go of Jack’s wrists once he’s assured by the relaxing of Jack’s shoulders that they’ll remain at his sides. Slowly and carefully, he reaches up to unzip the jacket of Jack’s costume, take care not to pull too hard lest he accidentally graze Jack’s sensitive skin — he knows Jack isn’t wearing an undershirt beneath it as he’d been there when Jack had put it on — with the rough metal slide. Jack sighs gratefully when the heavy leather falls from his shoulders, shrugging the jacket off and gingerly tossing it somewhere adjacent to Gabriel’s chair. Gloved hands roam the newly exposed skin, and Gabriel marvels at how the sweaty sheen almost glimmers in the dim lighting.

“Jackie,” he coos into Jack’s ear, voice low and rumbling in the way he knows Jack is weak to, “I want you to fuck my mouth.” His hands slide down to the waistband of Jack’s pants, rubbing gently at the hard erection pressing against the front and pulling away to toy with the zipper when Jack’s hips buck forward for more contact. With just as much care as he took in unzipping the jacket, Gabriel undoes the zipper to Jack's pants, chuckling at the lack of underwear and how prominently Jack’s cock protrudes from the open fly.

Gabriel guides Jack to adjust his position in his lap, spreading his own legs so that Jack can kneel onto the seat of the chair itself. The change in position has Jack’s torso blocking out all of the light entering into the pumpkin, and Gabriel is more or less left in the dark when it comes to being able to see. However, when he feels Jack’s hands reach up to try and remove the pumpkin head once more, and he is still able to thwart them by nudging those hands away. “With the head _on_ ,” he clarifies when he can sense Jack boggling at his actions.

He can just picture the look on Jack’s face quickly changing from confusion to utter disapproval, and when it finally sinks in that Gabriel isn’t going to budge or back down, he hears Jack sigh in defeat above him.

“Well, how the heck am I supposed to do this?” Jack grumbles. He makes very little effort to conceal the objection in his voice, though he resigns himself to Gabriel’s antics regardless; Gabriel assumes Jack’s arousal is to thank for compelling Jack to go along with him.

Chuckling, Gabriel opens a drawer at his desk, and without even needing to see, procures a sealed plastic bottle from its depths. He can’t see the look on Jack’s face, what with the darkness of the room doing no favors to the limited visibility he already has within the pumpkin head, but he can certainly picture that the expression is somewhere between unimpressed and annoyed, especially with his tone of voice.

“Pumpkin Spice _lube_? Seriously, Gabe?!” Though Jack grumbles, Gabriel can't help the sense of smug satisfaction that wells up within him at the sound of the plastic seal crinkling as it tears between them and at the tell-tale sound of the bottle popping open. As if on cue, the smell of Pumpkin Spice wafts into the air, overriding the smell of Reinhardt’s punch that had been lingering on their breaths. “Jesus Christ, it smells like a six-dollar coffee shop during harvest season…”

“You complain,” Gabriel chuckles, his grip on Jack's ass and thigh tightening to hold him steady. “But I don’t see you leaving to go get any other kind of lube.” The grin on his face widens in the darkness when he hears the wet sounds of Jack’s hand slicking up his cock falter for a moment.

“Oh, shut _up_ ,” Jack grumbles, giving the pumpkin a half-hearted knock of irritation, “You can’t _see_ anything anyway.” The smell of nutmeg and other spices hits Gabriel’s nostrils like a freight train when Jack’s fingers dip into the mouth of the carved pumpkin to lube up the opening, and he briefly regrets getting the lube with how strong the smell is. He doesn’t quite have much time to dwell on it, however, as Jack’s weight shifts above him and he hears the sound of the bottle thunking back onto the top of his desk.

Jack’s hands settle themselves onto his metal pauldrons, and the weight of them signals Gabriel to open his mouth. Carefully, he curls his lips over his teeth as he prepares for Jack’s cock to push into the well-lubed opening of the pumpkin’s smile and into his own mouth. At first, Jack misses, smearing the side of Gabriel mouth with a trail of pumpkin spice slick, but the both of them quickly adjust, and with a groan escaping both of their throats, Jack’s cock carefully penetrates the heat of Gabriel’s mouth.

The taste of the lube is about as artificial as Gabriel expected, but he doesn’t dwell too long on it. His interest focuses more on the feel of Jack’s hard erection in his mouth, and he laves at the rigid surface with his tongue, nursing at the fat head and relishing the pleasured groans that echo from Jack’s throat. Jack’s hips rock minutely into the wet heat, taking great care not to inadvertently hurt Gabriel in some way due to the mutual lack of visibility.

Nevertheless, despite the rather shallow penetration — even with the pumpkin in the way, Gabriel is familiar enough with Jack’s cock to know there’s more to it than just the scant few inches pressed against his palate — Gabriel can feel the extent to which Jack is enjoying himself. The hard erection twitches against his tongue, and he can feel Jack’s thigh tensing and relaxing against his hand with each motion of his hips. Quiet groans and gasps sound out in the quiet office, echoing Jack’s pleasure.

“Oh god, Gabriel,” Jack moans. Gabriel can just visualize the way Jack tosses his head back and moans brokenly when Gabriel’s lips tighten around him just enough to peel back the foreskin. His hot tongue presses against the sensitive ridge just beneath the head of Jack’s cock, and he chuckles when he feels Jack’s hips roll forward on reflex, deepening the penetration into his mouth and seeking more of that pleasure. Gabriel continues to indulge him, sucking and lapping at the ridges of his cock before Jack’s hips begin to buck in shallow thrusts against the pumpkin.

There’s not much space inside the pumpkin for Gabriel to pull himself away from Jack’s cock pressing in from the carved mouth, but somehow he manages to do so with a loud and wet pop. He hears Jack groan above him, no doubt in disappointment from the sudden removal of Gabriel's hot mouth around him, and frustration building at the teasing sensation of a wet muscle dancing around the spongy crown of his throbbing dick. Gabriel digs the point of his tongue into Jack's slit, grinning when he feels Jack's muscles tense beneath his gloved fingers.

“C’mon, Jackie,” Gabriel jeers, “Fuck my mouth like you mean it.”

He returns his mouth to that throbbing, sweet erection, and relaxes his mouth. He relaxes his throat too, out of sheer habit — despite not being able to deepthroat anywhere near as skillfully as Jack can, even on the best of days — even though he knows Jack's cock won't be able to reach that far, not with the pumpkin in the way. Without missing a single beat, he feels Jack begin to rock in his grasp, jostling the pumpkin in the same, steady rhythm as the pale hips striking against it.

Gabriel can swear he feels the pulse in Jack's cock throb to the same steady tempo, pressing his tongue against the ridge of a pronounced vein at each forward push into his mouth. He sucks inward when Jack pulls out of the heat of his mouth, and before long, he feels the steady in-and-out rhythm of Jack's hips begin to falter.

“Fuck, Gabe,” he hears Jack groan, voice straining from effort. He struggles to keep his hips in control, clearly failing when they stutter and attempt to press further into Gabriel's hot mouth instead of drawing back all the way like they should. Gabriel is not quite sure how it's possible, exactly, to feel so aroused when he's sweating like a pig inside his costume, unable to see anything due to the darkness of the room and the pumpkin on his head, and having his mouth (as well as said pumpkin’s) fucked, but Gabriel’s fingers tighten around Jack's thigh when he feels his own clothed erection throb in time with Jack’s thrusts. He groans around the hot cock in his mouth when the familiar taste of precum makes itself known despite the flavored lube coating his tongue.

“Come for me, baby. Let me taste you,” he manages to purr out around Jack's erection. Several more groans and grunts sound out above him, and sure enough, after a few more staccato thrusts, Jack lets out one final agonized groan, and spills himself into the heat of Gabriel's mouth.

Gabriel echoes Jack's groan with his own, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the taste of Jack's cum mingling with the Pumpkin Spice and creating an orgasmic — pun intended — flavor like nothing else. He feels his own erection throb in time with each pulse of Jack's cock on his tongue, and he savors every single drop. It's when Jack's orgasm finally ends, and he hisses from over sensitivity that Gabriel finishes cleaning every last bit of fluid from Jack's spent dick with his tongue and pulls away with a wet pop.

“Holy shit, Gabe,” Jack manages to pant out as he struggles to catch his breath. Gabriel doesn't even need to look to know that there's a deep red blush coloring his pale skin from the tips of his ears down to his chest, no doubt embarrassed at the realization at just what happened.

“Good, huh?” he chuckles, letting the hand at Jack's thigh drift down to his own crotch and adjust the erection still pressing against the front of his pants.

Jack doesn't deign his question with any sort of answer, and instead asks, “Your turn?”

Gabriel shakes his head, taking his hand off of his cock. He's put too much work into his costume to get it dirty, and knows that if he were to take it off — even just a little bit — he wouldn't want to go through the effort of putting it all back on again. “Maybe later,” he replies, realizing that the pumpkin on his head doesn't exactly turn with his head and that it probably only looked like odd wobbling to Jack.

“You sure?” he asks. Gabriel nods, putting enough force in the action to make sure the pumpkin moves back and forth along with his head as he leans down to grope at the floor near the leg of his chair. His fingers manage to catch onto Jack's cape and jacket, and he pulls them up off the carpet.

“I'm sure,” he laughs, handing the costume parts over. He can already feel his arousal fade, chased away by the prospect of Ana's scolding if they don't get themselves back to the party soon. “We need to head back anyway, before Ana gives us an earful.”

He hears the rustling of fabric as Jack pulls his costume back on, and gives Jack one quick slap on the ass before pulling his hand away to let him pull his pants back up.

“Asshole,” he hears Jack laugh fondly before he feels that comfortable warmth climb off the chair and pull away from him. “Come on, _pumpkin_ , let's get back, then.” Gabriel's eyes quickly adjust to the return of the scant bits of moonlight illuminating the room, and he follows Jack out the door.

Gabriel can't help but feel something nagging at him from the back of his head as they make their way back. He can't quite put his finger on it, but he feels like he’s forgetting something. From the way Jack hums a familiar tune, hand intertwined with Gabriel’s and swinging in an almost carefree manner as they walk, he pushes the thought from his mind. It can't be all that important if Jack isn’t worried either.

He quickly remembers what that important something is after he and Jack return to the party.

“And here I thought you two were going to play hooky,” Ana says, handing Jack a trash bag.

“We wouldn’t do that to you,” Jack laughs, moving to the coffee table to begin picking up the mess.

Gabriel notices the way her nose crinkles in confusion when she holds up a trash bag in front of him. She sniffs the air, grimacing. “...Why on earth does it smell like you rolled around in nutmeg?” she asks, stepping back from him with a visibly light bit of disgust.

Gabriel fights the urge to break into a loud guffaw, knowing at the same time Jack is looking at the both of them, horrified and fighting the urge to not only scream, but dunk Gabriel — pumpkin head and all — into the bucket meant for bobbing for apples, and leave him there for the rest of the night.


End file.
